


if you let me try

by seeingrightly



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Asexual Newton Geiszler, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: He’d thought Hermann would care a lot more about tardiness than he does. He’d thought a lot of incorrect things about Hermann, when they’d met at a stuffy professor-filled dinner party held by someone Newt sort of considers a friend from a few degrees ago. They’d been the two youngest professors in attendance, and they’d argued almost immediately, and Newt had become obsessed nearly as quickly as that.He hadn’t understood what he was feeling at first. Which isn’t to say he particularly does now. Newt’s in uncharted territory. Being younger than all his classmates and extremely busy earning a million degrees had served as convenient distractions from his lack of interest in the things everyone else seemed to be engaging in or desiring for; Hermann is the first time someone has caught his attention enough to do something about it, or go along with what someone else is trying to do with him.





	if you let me try

**Author's Note:**

> [spins wheel of projection] time to project ace spectrum stuff onto newt geiszler. for real tho a lot of the reason i created the sfw fest with tommy was to get some more positive ace rep out there and i myself haven’t really written too much of that yet and def not for this fandom. TO BE CLEAR this is me projecting some of my own very specific experiences and anxieties onto newt and is not meant to be a broader picture of the ace community or whatever!
> 
> the prompts i chose were talking about boundaries and dressing for colder weather
> 
> title from "take a chance on me" by, of course, abba

 

 

 

Newt knows he would be like this still if he had been raised anywhere else, but Boston as a city is perpetually ten minutes late. The T has never once been on schedule, and as the temperature declines, so too do people’s hopes that anyone will arrive on time. It seeps from the atmosphere and into the railroad tracks and the old building structures and Newt’s bones, til the whole city is creaking along. He feels it even when he’s bundled up and waiting in the lower level of Park St. Station for his connecting train, sweating at his temples and down his ass crack and listening to an old woman warble into a small handheld microphone set-up.

Point is, he’s going to be late to meet Hermann. Hermann had wanted to meet in the middle, but the worsening weather is harder on him than it is on Newt, and there’ll be plenty of times he’ll have to go out into it anyway, so Newt kind of wants to spare him the trips he can.

When the train pulls up, Newt takes out his phone and sends off a text before he loses service, letting Hermann know as he tucks into a corner that he should be there in about 20 more minutes, assuming the best. Not that Hermann should assume the best when it comes to Newt and punctuality.

He’d thought Hermann would care a lot more about tardiness than he does. He’d thought a lot of incorrect things about Hermann, when they’d met at a stuffy professor-filled dinner party held by someone Newt sort of considers a friend from a few degrees ago. They’d been the two youngest professors in attendance, and they’d argued almost immediately, and Newt had become obsessed nearly as quickly as that.

He hadn’t understood what he was feeling at first. Which isn’t to say he particularly does now. Newt’s in uncharted territory. Being younger than all his classmates and extremely busy earning a million degrees had served as convenient distractions from his lack of interest in the things everyone else seemed to be engaging in or desiring for; Hermann is the first time someone has caught his attention enough to do something about it, or go along with what someone else is trying to do with him.

They’ve spent a lot of time together. They’re dating. Newt’s already told Hermann about his deal. It’s become easy, most of the time, for him to tell Hermann when he does or doesn’t like something, or when he’s not sure, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Newt to know what he wants in the first place.

Hermann’s waiting outside a cafe like they planned, though it’s a little difficult to find him because there’s some kind of street fair set up in Harvard Square. His face is tucked into a big scarf and his hair is flopping around at the crown of his head in the breeze and the tips of his ears are bright pink. He looks extremely grumpy. Newt’s chest hurts and he feels a physical need to reach out and do something to Hermann, but he doesn’t know what. 

“Hey,” Newt says as he walks up, hoping his voice sounds casual.

Hermann looks up and his expression shifts to something significantly less unpleasant instantly. His eyes skate down Newt’s frame quickly and his eyebrows pull together.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

“Nah, I got layers,” Newt says, patting his stomach.

He’s wearing a thick long-sleeved shirt under his hoodie and two pairs of socks under his boots, as well as a slightly ratty beanie jammed over his hair. As long as they don’t stay outside for too long, he’s done a good job of dressing for the temperature.

“We have a while before we have to be at the theater,” Hermann says. “And it’s only a few blocks away. D’you want to walk around the street fair for a bit?”

“Only if you buy me something stupid,” Newt says.

Hermann smiles a very particular smile that Newt hasn’t seen him aim at anyone else. It’s just as annoyed as it is endeared. Newt wishes it would never leave his face.

“Lead on, then,” Hermann says, and Newt worms his way into the crowd.

He doesn’t want to lose Hermann, and he’s worried someone’s going to knock his cane out from under him or shove him off balance, so he sticks closer to Hermann than he normally would. Their arms brush as they move from booth to booth, and occasionally they get pressed together. Hermann rests his hand on Newt’s shoulder for support, and he doesn’t remove it as they stop to look at a table of tacky jewelry.

“Is this alright?” Hermann asks quietly.

Newt takes a moment to think about it before he answers, because Hermann tends to ask him more than once if he answers too quickly, and he’s usually right to do so. Newt likes the intention behind the touch, the way it connects them. Physically, it doesn’t do much for him - prolonged touch sometimes feels like it’s weighing him down. Newt is restless, in body and mind, and he doesn’t like to feel like he can’t move however he wants, however he needs to.

However, something he’s noticed, in experimenting this way with Hermann, is that variations on the same touch can feel very different to him. Newt doesn’t like feeling weighed down or pinned, but he does like feeling wrapped up, able to curl in or out, to twist as he needs to.

“Can we -”

He can’t articulate exactly what he wants instead, so he grabs Hermann’s hand and moves it from the top of his shoulder to his upper arm, so that Hermann’s arm curls around his mid-back instead of resting against his upper back. Now he feels - protected, instead of hovered over.

He could articulate that. Maybe he’ll try at some point. But not now, out in the open.

“This is good?” Hermann asks, squeezing Newt gently against his side before relaxing his grip and keeping it where Newt asked.

“Yes,” Newt says, nodding firmly. “Although I don’t think we can walk like this.”

“No, but now I know where you want me when we’ve paused,” Hermann replies. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Newt feels it again, that pain in his chest, the need to do something without a specific plan. Hermann studies his face thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking when you look at me like that?” Hermann asks.

“Later?” Newt offers, and Hermann nods easily.

They’re about to move away from the booth when Hermann nods at a collection of leather bracelets.

“Those would match yours,” he says. “Do you want another one?”

“Hey, I said I wanted something stupid,” Newt says, mock offended. “What are you suggesting, pal?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Hermann replies innocently enough that he’s clearly playing along, but his cheeks look slightly pinker, like he’s embarrassed by the unintentional slight.

The feeling Newt keeps feeling crystalizes for a moment into a general, overwhelming need for contact, strong enough that he doesn’t have to think about what kind of contact or consider the ramifications of his actions. He wraps his arms around Hermann’s waist and leans against him, resting his chin on his shoulder. He feels Hermann startle before he slowly, carefully moves his hand up to cradle the back of Newt’s head.

“Will you really buy me a bracelet?” Newt asks.

He doesn’t expect Hermann to say no; he just constantly feels like he’s asking too much of Hermann, and Hermann keeps giving to him anyway. It’s a surprise every time.

“Pick one out,” Hermann replies, his voice soft and close to Newt’s ear.

As Newt pulls back from the hug, their faces pass close together, and Newt experiences a flash of longing combined with blank panic. He wants to kiss Hermann. He knows that. But he doesn’t know how to kiss, or if he’ll like it, and he’s terrified of stumbling through the experience, of the idea that it won’t end up being worth stumbling through. 

But he wants to do it, and he’s going to, and he doesn’t know when, and he’s scared.

When he’s fully pulled away, he notices that Hermann is still pinker than he was earlier, though he doesn’t think it’s only from embarrassment.

“Are  _ you _ cold?” Newt asks, partly to distract himself from his own thoughts.

Hermann frowns, which is a yes. Newt pulls off his bright orange beanie and Hermann lets out an unattractive, adorable sputter as Newt comes at him with it.

“Newton, please,” he says, trying to fend Newt off without really touching him.

Newt takes unfair advantage of that and wraps one arm around Hermann, trapping his free arm against his side, and jams the beanie onto Hermann’s head unceremoniously with the other. Hermann pouts while he adjusts it.

“Oh, uh,” Newt says suddenly, freezing, “is this okay?”

Hermann’s expression melts into something sweet enough Newt almost has to look away.

“Yes, dear, thank you for checking,” Hermann says. “I might be a grouch but I’m very happy to have you touch me, when it suits you.”

“Yeah but you’ll tell me when it doesn’t suit you, right?” Newt asks, adjusting his beanie one last time and taking a step back.

“I promise I will,” Hermann says, and then his expression turns calculating. “I have an idea. But it’s for later.”

Newt narrows his eyes.

“I have an idea for now. Let’s buy my bracelet and then go to the theater early and you can tell me your idea there.”

“Good plan,” Hermann says with an official nod.

When they lean over the table to inspect bracelet options, Hermann reaches into his coat and pulls out his glasses on their little chain. Paired with Newt’s orange beanie, the sight is so overwhelming that Newt can’t even focus on the bracelets and isn’t sure what Hermann ends up buying for him.

“Can we try something?” Newt asks as they walk toward the theater.

“Yes,” Hermann replies, and out of the corner of his eye Newt sees his eyebrows go up when Newt takes his hand.

He doesn’t link their fingers, just slips his hand into Hermann’s and holds it loosely. Then he tries holding it a little tighter. Neither feels entirely natural, and his hand gets sweaty quickly, and he wants to stretch his fingers after just a few seconds but he feels like he can’t. He doesn’t know how much of the weirdness if from the act and how much of it is from being new to it.

Hermann glances at him several times in a way he must think is subtle, though Newt can’t tell if he can tell that Newt is mildly panicking and not particularly enjoying himself.

“I wanna switch,” Newt says, a little loudly and abruptly.

“Switch in what way?” Hermann asks, his voice a little too neutral to actually be neutral.

Newt slides his hand out of Hermann’s and up his arm to his elbow. This way they can walk closely together but also move pretty independently. Newt can adjust as much as he needs but still be near Hermann.

“Is this still good for you?” Newt asks once he’s certain he’s comfortable. “You’re not really getting to touch me anymore.”

“You’re touching me,” Hermann replies. “I know those are two different experiences to you, but both make me equally happy.”

Newt feels the desire to press his face against Hermann’s shoulder as they slow to a stop outside of the door to the theater. Rather than second-guess the instinct or wonder how it will make him feel or worry about what Hermann will expect next, Newt lets himself do it. He presses his nose and his cheek and his mouth against Hermann’s shoulder and squeezes his arm where he holds it and then he stops and keeps on moving, opening the door and heading inside.

The Brattle Theater is tiny and warm and friendly, and tonight it’s showing a series of queer short films. While they hand in their tickets and buy snacks, Hermann touches his fingers gently to Newt’s elbow and back a few times. The contact is brief, no pressure, and anticipates nothing of Newt in return. From someone else, Newt wouldn’t like it, but from Hermann he does. He’ll tell Hermann later.

The theater is empty, and they pick seats in the middle of one of the back rows. Hermann unwinds his scarf and removes his coat after he sits down, but he doesn’t remove Newt’s beanie. He looks over and narrows his eyes slightly.

“You’re making that face again,” he says.

Newt bites his lip.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” he says, and Hermann smiles slightly, because that’s how Newt always begins. “I just - want to touch you, or do something to you, but I get overwhelmed. There’s a lot of options and I don’t know if I’ll like them, or if you will, or if they’re weird or if I’m bad at them. I freeze up.”

“Do you want to know what idea I was going to suggest earlier?” Hermann asks, his mouth spreading into a sweet smile.

“Yeah,” Newt says, trying and failing not to stare at his lips.

“Would it help you if I let you know when I want you to touch me, generally?” Hermann asks. “Or asked you if you would like to touch me in a specific way that I want?”

Newt looks away from Hermann and up at the blank screen in front of them as he thinks. The suggestion keeps Newt entirely in control of the touching, but it also gives him concrete options, to keep him from getting overwhelmed or second-guessing what Hermann wants.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, turning back to Hermann with wide eyes. “Yeah, that would really help. Dude, you’re so smart.”

Hermann smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that makes Newt’s chest hurt more than almost anything else.

“Good,” Hermann says. “I’m glad. I - I know I said I’d give you options but I’d really enjoy any way you’d like to touch me right now. If you want.”

Hermann’s eyes are crinkling at him, and he’s still wearing his chained glasses and Newt’s bright beanie, and he wants anything Newt might be willing to offer, but he also doesn’t expect anything from him.

“Can -” Newt starts, but his throat clicks and he has to stop to clear it.

He takes a second to breathe and think about what he really wants, what would keep things from being too scary. He trusts Hermann with this.

“Will you kiss me?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

Hermann’s face smooths out into shock, and his eyes search Newt’s face for a moment. Newt nods, and Hermann leans in very, very slowly and presses their lips together. Newt closes his eyes tightly and presses his own lips forward by instinct. Hermann’s nose touches his cheek, as does one of the cold chains of his glasses. Hermann’s lips are a little chapped, and they hold in place for a few moments, long enough that Newt will remember the feeling.

When Hermann pulls back, Newt’s lips feel a little funny, and the skin around Hermann’s mouth is slightly pink. Newt has no more idea of how he feels about the act of kissing than he did thirty seconds ago, but he feels giddy over having done it. He ducks his head and lets out a laugh that sounds hysterical.

“Newton?” Hermann asks, his voice edging on concerned.

Newt laughs again and turns his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Thanks,” he says, reaching over to curl his hand around Hermann’s, then looking down at their overlapping fingers. “I don’t think I like holding hands, dude, but also I  _ want _ to hold your hand? It’s very confusing.”

“You’re a complex man,” Hermann replies gravely. “I like you very much, Newton.”

“You did buy me a bracelet, so,” Newt says weakly, ducking his head further as his face turns pink.

He coughs and clears his throat and makes himself take a deep breath. Then he leans back in his chair and finally looks over at Hermann, worrying his lips together.

“Okay,” Newt exhales. “You have to know that I mean it when I say I’ve never felt about anyone before the way I feel about you. I feel  _ so much _ about you, dude.”

Hermann smiles crookedly and turns a little pink himself.

“How would you feel about resting your head against my shoulder when the films start?” he asks.

“I think I’d like that,” Newt says, looking at Hermann’s shoulder consideringly. “I wanna try.”

He wants to offer Hermann something in return, some way that Hermann can touch Newt that will still leave him enough freedom to move.

“Hey,” Newt says, “would you wanna try having your hand on my leg?”

Hermann looks at him thoughtfully.

“Newton, I...”

“You won’t make me feel bad,” Newt says. 

“That’s usually considered a fairly intimate touch,” Hermann says, his tone still cautious, his eyebrows drawn together.

“ _ Intimate _ ,” Newt repeats, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m not asking you to feel me up, man. I just think it’s a place you can keep your hand that won’t make me feel pinned.”

“Pinned,” Hermann says. “Can we talk about that later? Do you think you’re closer to being able to describe it?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Newt says. “Hey. Thanks for working so hard to get me.”

Hermann’s expression turns sappy.

“How do you want to touch me right now?” Newt asks on a hunch, and Hermann jumps and flushes.

“Newton,” he says, but Newt interrupts him.

“No, come on, I want you to tell me what you were thinking you wanted to do. I won’t do it if it’s something I don’t wanna do, but sometimes we can do things because you actively want to do them and I don’t mind doing them.”

Hermann nods slowly, looking a bit less flustered.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense,” he says, still sounding reluctant.

“What were you thinking about?” Newt asks again, and Hermann sighs.

“If you must know, I was thinking about kissing you again, dear,” Hermann says, “but that doesn’t mean -”

“Shut up,” Newt says, and then he leans in and presses his lips to Hermann’s cheekbone.

Up close like this, he can smell Hermann’s shampoo and just barely feel the brush of his long eyelashes against his own cheek. Hermann’s skin is warm. Newt’s breath catches in his chest.

This? He loves this.

He pulls back and tries not to look as starry-eyed as he feels.

“Later, when I have my head on your shoulder,” he says, feeling unsteady, “you can kiss me like that.”

“Oh,” Hermann says, smiling slowly, pleased. “Thank you. I look forward to it.”

Newt feels overwhelmed, and instinctively he reaches down to fiddle with his bracelets, and then he feels the new one. He looks down at his wrist. Most of his bracelets are just black braided leather in slightly different styles. The one Hermann bought for him isn’t braided, just wrapped around his wrist a few times, and the hook is a silver fishing hook.

“Hey, this is cool as hell,” Newt says to himself, and Hermann lets out an outraged noise.

“Where were you when we were buying it?” he asks.

Newt spreads his hands helplessly.

“You’re wearing my hat, dude,” he says.

“You do realize that’s incentive for me not to do it again,” Hermann says, narrowing his eyes. “I’d like for you to pay attention to me, Newton.”

Newt lets out a disbelieving, self-conscious laugh.

“You have no idea how much attention I’m paying to you, Hermann,” he says.

“I think I might have some idea,” Hermann replies.

“Ugh, what a line, you nerd,” Newt says, but he leans in and rests his head on Hermann’s shoulder.

The angle isn’t particularly comfortable for his neck, even when he moves around in his seat a bunch of times. It won’t make eating his snacks easy once the films start. But there’s something to physical touches with Hermann that’s not there with anyone else. There’s something that has Newt thinking that despite everything else, he’s going to keep his head on Hermann’s shoulder for a long time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [ch3ry1b10ss0m](https://www.ch3ry1b10ss0m.tumblr.com) or twitter at [coralbluenmbr5](https://www.twitter.com/coralbluenmbr5)


End file.
